


[S] John: Take the Apple

by kinestheticpariah



Series: Variations on Mormonstuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mormonism, Mormonstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinestheticpariah/pseuds/kinestheticpariah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re John Egbert, you’ve taken the apple, and you have a feeling you’ll be thrown out of the Garden of Eden anytime now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[S] John: Take the Apple

It’s a cool autumn day and you’re sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor with your back against your bed. Dave Strider is lounging on your bed, his head and shoulders hanging off of the edge a few inches from your face. His blonde, slightly-gingery hair is hanging down, and you can actually see his forehead for once without his bangs there. His shades are somewhat skewed on his face, but they still cover his eyes for the most part. His hands rest clasped on his stomach. He turns to look at you, a slight grin on his lightly tanned, liberally-freckled face.

“So, Mr. Mormon Boy,” he says, and dodges your hand when you swat at his face playfully, “what’s the worst you’ve done?”

You flush slightly. “What do you mean?” you ask. You know what he means, but…you really don’t want to admit you’ve never kissed a girl. You’re sixteen, for gosh’s sakes!

“You fuckin’ know what I mean,” he says, and your face reddens even more. You thank god your skin is dark enough to mask your blushing. “Have you actually gotten further than holding hands, or are you a model Peter Priesthood?”

“How do you even know…Mormon lingo?”

“I did my research when I met you,” he leans in closer, and whispers in your ear: “you gotta do your research when you see a fine piece of ass to claim. Gotta speak the language to woo exotic babes.”

You shudder away and replant yourself at least a foot away from Dave. You laugh although your face is hot. You’d never in your life admit, even to the bishop, that the chills his whispery breath sent through your bones were less of a “danger! danger!” alarm from the Holy Ghost or whatever, and more of a….you really don’t know what to call it. Excitement? Pleasure, even? …Arousal?

 _God, no,_  you think. But you’re lying to yourself - there’s a sort of heat settling in places you’ve been told it shouldn’t. 

“You’re so gay.” You laugh and shake your head.

You hear the bed’s springs creak, and suddenly Dave has done some weird parkour crap and flipped over off the bed, landing across from you. You have no flippin’ idea how he does that stuff.

He leans in close to you. “Don’t avoid the question, John,” he says.

Holy shit, he hardly ever says your first name. It’s usually “Egbert” or “Mr. Mormon” or some variation of allusions to your religion that you should probably find insulting but you think it’s sorta cute. …not in the gay way, of course!

“Have you kissed anyone?” he asks once again.

You look down at your lap, and shrug, feeling a bit squirmy. You reach back with a hand and scratch at the side of your head. “N…not really,” you say.

“Really?”

When you look back up at Dave, he’s surprisingly not sneering like most others do. He just seems…you don’t really know. Not confused. Sort of…interested?

“Yeah…we’re not really supposed to date till we’re sixteen, and…I just turned sixteen a few months ago.”

“Weird,” he says.

“And you’re not supposed to….well, you’re not supposed to do a lot of things.” You stand up as you complete your sentence, walking over to your dresser and pulling your  _For the Strength of Youth_  pamphlet from where it’s sticking out from under your scriptures.

You sit down across from Dave and hand him the packet, half-expecting him to laugh and chuck it away, so you’re surprised when he opens it up and appears to be reading it, although you can’t see past his shades.

“…free to choose liberty and eternal life…” he mumbles, and flips the page, “…date only those who have high moral standards…” A grin flickers briefly on his lips, and he continues skimming and flipping pages. “Sexual Purity. Oh. Better buckle myself in for this.” He puts the small book page-down on his thigh while he mimes putting on a seat belt, and you grin - he sees this, and mirrors the grin. “Reserved for marriage…” He quietly skims, but then you see his eyebrows pop upwards behind his shades. “More serious any other sins except murder or denying the Holy Gh- Holy shit, man, this is like…fearmongering 101.”

“Shut up,” you mumble. Your head is battling between defending the doctrine and letting Dave’s comment slip. You decide to go with the latter.

It’s quiet for a moment. Dave looks at you. “I guess this is a pretty big secret for you, huh?”

“Sorta,” you shrug. 

“If it makes you feel better,” he says, scooting in a bit closer, and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I have a few secrets of my own.” The corner of his lip twitches upwards, and you feel your own face mirror the expression.

“Like what?” you ask, hesitant. What if he’s killed people, or- Oh, this is Dave we’re talking about. The worst he could have done is steal candy from a little kid, or pick the lock of one of the goth kids’ lockers to take some of their weed.

He takes a deep breath, and reaches up to his shades. He slowly pulls them off of his face, setting them down in his lap. His eyes are closed, and his fists clench in his lap, as if he’s having an internal battle over whether or not to open them. Eventually, he does, and-

Holy flipping cow his eyes are-

“They’re…red,” you say, and your body seems to move forward of its own accord to get a closer look. He nods nonchalantly. “W…whoa.”

“Yeah. I’m a freak of nature. But at least it’s my eyes - I can hide my  _mutation_  with cool shades and pretend to be a coolkid.” He laughs a bit, and his breath is warm against your face. You realize you’re inches from his face…his lips.

You try to focus on his eyes. That’s what you’re here for, right? They’re a ridiculous bright red, with flecks of a fiery orange and…something like lavender.

“They’re…really pretty, Dave,” you find yourself saying - quietly, reverently, like an “amen” after a prayer.

And then you’re kissing.

Honestly kissing Dave Strider, on the floor of your bedroom, with a copy of a church manual resting on his lap. You’re breaking so many rules, and you’ll probably be excommunicated if Jade, Jake, or Jane happens to walk in right now, but there’s a thrill that comes with this. You can’t stop.

His hands grip at your upper arms, slowly migrating upwards to your neck, and _…_

_Hmm…_

You quickly jump backwards. Dave is looking at you with a face that’s a cross between dazed and amused. You hadn’t meant to make that noise…it happened…you…

“I didn’t mean to…”

He lifts a finger to your lip as he scoots in closer. “Shhh.” He’s on his knees in front of you, one hand resting against the bed and another shooshing you.

He leans in again. Kisses you again. Briefly, softly, this time, before pulling back to look at you.

An echoing voice in the back of your head, maybe your dad’s, is saying, “ _Homosexual and lesbian behavior is a serious sin…_ ”

“Fuck it,” you say, and the guilty lump in your throat at cursing dissipates as soon as you’ve pulled him back towards you, his soft hair between your fingers, his lips soft against yours, his hands on your thighs for support.

You’re John Egbert, you’ve taken the apple, and you have a feeling you’ll be thrown out of the Garden of Eden anytime now.


End file.
